


Mr. Freeze - Dance

by Nathaniel_Quietly



Category: Batman (1966), Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies 1989-1997), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 02:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathaniel_Quietly/pseuds/Nathaniel_Quietly
Summary: So for those who havent heard, October is here and we at DC Animated Adventures are teaming up with Nazario Designs to giveaway the complete Batman: The Animated Series on DVD! Chris will draw a villain a day and you just write a short 400-500 word story about that character and you're entered! That simple!Lance and I decided that we wanted to play along as well, even though we're not qualified to win (as we are putting on the contest). Here's my entry for today: Mr. Freeze! I completely blew up the word count on this one, but I don't care - it was in service of the story. (Check outThe DCAA Facebookfor more information.)





	Mr. Freeze - Dance

"Victor? Victor!"

She knows he had to have heard her, but the pale, thin man-- _he looks like an ice sculpture,_ she thinks, ...or an incredibly bland David Bowie--keeps walking. She stretches her walk _(her ostrich walk, dad always called it her ostrich walk, all gawky and unformed)_ into a jog, trying to catch the boy. 

"Hey, Victor! Victor Fries!" She pronounces it like the side you order with a burger. She knows he hates that.

He stops on a pin and turns. His beautiful blue eyes, clear as frosted crystal, are half-lidded in irritation. His long, elegant pianist's fingers are curled around the straps of his backpack.

"It's 'Fries'," he says, his voice emotionless with just a hint of an Eastern European accent. "Rhymes with 'sneeze'." His tone lowers; he's talking to himself now. "Oh, well done, Victor. Give them more ammunition."

She's fighting her forward momentum as she comes to a clumsy stop before him, long legs _(too long, ostrich legs, graceless, useless ostrich legs)_ almost kneeing the boy of their own volition. She smooths her skirt to paper over the awkward moment and makes a silent show of memorizing the correct pronunciation. Telling him now that she knew, that she was just trying to catch his attention, would most likely just hurt his feelings and drive him away.

"'Fries'," she says quietly, under her breath, then looks him in his iridescent blue eyes, smiles, and puts out a hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Fries. I'm Nora."  
He takes her palm in his tentative own and shakes. "Victor is fine," he says. His voice is still a chill monotone, but the corners of his mouth turn up in a hint of a smile.

"Your hands are so warm!" she breathes, and jerks her own back to her side. She’s suddenly unsure of what to do with them. _('Your hands are so warm', nice one, Nora, that what all the boys want to hear, God...)_

"Good blood circulation," Victor replies, flexing his fingers nimbly. "Runs in the family. Is there anything I can help you with, Nora...?"

She flushes then, a surge of hot blood staining her cheeks and the roots of her summer blonde hair. "Oh Victor, I'm so sorry, yes. You and I are actually in the same chemistry class, and I... well, I was hoping you could tutor me."

Not that she really needs it; Nora's pulling a solid 'B' in the class, and will have no problem with the advanced course next semester. But her dad always says "second best is first loser" _(it was what he said at the end of every high school track meet)_ , and Victor is at the top of the class. And besides, he's cute, and she wants to get to know him.

It's Victor's turn to be embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sure there's someone else more suitable," he stammers. "I can do the equations, but I've never been good at explaining my process."

"Oh, that's nonsense," Nora grins. "I heard about you. You came to the university with so much science credit you enrolled as a junior your first semester. And the way you talk about the work when you're asked a question, you should be running the lectures, not stuffy old Professor Elliot." A thought seizes her; she grabs his hand in her left, and with her right pulls a bright pink pen from her handbag. She bites down on the cap to pull it free and begins to scribble in his palm.

"Here...ith my number," she says around the cap, then pops the pen back into it and pulls it out. "Call me tonight, and we can set up a meet time. Get some coffee, or maybe dinner." She spins on her heel and begins to walk away, her face breaking into a wild grin. He was so stunned, it was adorable, she could almost kiss those thin, calculating lips....

"I saw you!" he calls out suddenly, from behind her. She stops, turns. She doesn't understand. 

He's standing there in the quad, his slim fingers running through his loose auburn hair. He’s not looking at her, not really; his attention is more over her right shoulder. 

"I saw you dance," he said. "At the theater. Three weeks ago. 'Swan Lake'. You were the White Swan. It was...it was beautiful." His eyes connect with hers, and she’s melting. "You were beautiful."

"Oh that's...that's very kind of you," she says, her self confidence evaporating under the heat of his full gaze. "But I'm not much of a dancer."

"My dear girl," he says, and this time, he actually smiles at her. "I could watch you dance for the rest of my days."


End file.
